


The Definition of Closur

by TheInevitableSense



Series: A List Of Definitions [10]
Category: Crucible Cast Party - SNL Sketch, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alexander Hamilton Is Real Upset About It, Cheating, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, I Can't Stop Hurting Cody Shuck, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Sex, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Panic Attacks, Suicide, This is it no more I swear, Thomas Jefferson Is Fucking Dead, suicide aftermath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 16:24:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9192791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheInevitableSense/pseuds/TheInevitableSense
Summary: The thing about constant, incessant noises is that you tend to forget they’re there. They fade into the background, become white noise to your thoughts and you tune them out easily.That is until they change. Once that noise changes, you become suddenly hyper-aware of it, it’s the only thing you can notice. It’s the only thing you can focus on. The noise changed and so did the entirety of your world. Which sounds like an exaggeration, until it’s so horribly not.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [exadorlion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/exadorlion/gifts).



The thing about constant, incessant noises is that you tend to forget they’re there. They fade into the background, become white noise to your thoughts and you tune them out easily.

That is until they change. Once that noise changes, you become suddenly hyper-aware of it, it’s the only thing you can notice. It’s the only thing you can focus on. The noise changed and so did the entirety of your world. Which sounds like an exaggeration, until it’s so horribly not.

Alexander’s noise- the quiet, electronic beeping coming from the direction of Thomas’ bed- changes in a split second. It goes from a slow, even beating to a high-pitched screeching and his head snaps up from where he’s been staring at the floor. It takes him a heartbeat to understand what is happening, what the change means, but when his brain processes it his heart plummets through the floor.

He feels frozen, simply staring at the little screen by Thomas’ head that is displaying a wildly fluctuating line and blinking warning lights. _No,_ he screams in his head, _no no no no Thomas no!_ He wants to move, wants to make a sound but he can’t. He’s stuck in his chair, helpless as Thomas dies in front of him.

Cody, on the other hand, shoots out of his chair at the speed of light. “No, shit, Thomas!” he yells, crossing the distance between him and the bed in a blink of an eye. Cody grabs onto the front of Thomas’ shirt, leaning over the man and screaming. “ _Thomas don’t you fucking dare do this, you son of a bitch, you need to live, don’t do this, please!_ ”

The electronic screaming is as loud as Cody’s in Alexander’s ears. He stands, feeling like he’s in a dream. His body feels light, as if he is a puppet and someone is pulling him along on strings. “Cody,” he breathes, his arms reaching out in the thousands of feet of space in front of his eyes. “Cody, get away from him, please.”

Cody doesn’t listen, one of his knees coming up onto the side of the bed as he curls over Thomas’ prone form. “Don’t do this,” he commands, as if Thomas can hear him, “Don’t- don’t leave. Don’t leave _me_ , please, Thomas, I- I- I need you, _don’t leave me like this._ ” In some distant corner of his brain, Alexander realizes Cody’s voice is changing, that Alexander’s accent and cadence is slipping into the younger man’s voice. Cody lets out a choked sob, his face curling into Thomas’ chest. “Please, Thomas, I love you-”

It’s those words, said in Alexander’s voice, that snap Alexander out of the fuzzy denial he’s in. Alexander throws himself across the room, wrapping his arms around Cody’s middle and pulling.

“Cody, you need to calm down, the doctors are coming, please, Cody,” he begs. Cody is immoveable, the fabric of Thomas’ shirt bunched in his hands.

“ _No!_ ” Cody shrieks, “He needs me, he needs Alexander, let me go, oh god, _Thomas don’t die on me_.”

“Cody, come _on_.” Alexander heaves, willing drop onto his back if that’s what it would take to get Cody off Thomas. He hears the hospital room door slam open, urgent voices already giving commands. Alexander pulls as hard as he can. Cody’s leg slips free but he struggles.

“Sir, you need to back away,” one of the doctors says, his voice calm and collected despite the scene he just walked into. Cody shakes his head, one hand unlatching from Thomas’ chest to push at Alexander’s arms.

“No, no, Thomas, please, I- he can’t die, please please,” Cody begs, squirming in Alexander’s hold. One of the nurses slides her body between Cody and the bed, using her position to worm Cody’s hand free. The moment Cody’s hand comes off Thomas’ shirt, Alexander pulls him back. Cody’s feet come off the floor and Alexander has to drag him, literally kicking and screaming, to the opposite corner of the room.

“Come on Cody, calm down, remember who you are!” Alexander pleads, holding Cody tight to his chest. Cody struggles, twists, beats on Alexander’s arms.

“I _know_ who I am!” He yells. “I’m his Alexander and he _needs_ me.”

“No, he needs the doctors, Cody, you’re not-”

“Don’t you fucking call me that!” Cody drives his elbow into Alexander’s side. The older man grunts, but doesn’t let go. He tightens his hold around Cody’s waist with one arm, then uses his other hand to pull Cody’s arms down tight to his sides. Soon, Alexander is restraining Cody, planting Cody on his knees and holding him tight, arms pinned to his sides.

Cody is still screaming nonsense but Alexander tunes it out. He can’t listen to it, not if Cody’s relapsing as hard as Alexander thinks he is. The other man sobs in his arms, broken pleas spilling from his mouth like fervent prayers. He’s not fighting anymore, only barely pushing on Alexander’s arms with his chest.

From the floor in the corner, they watch the doctor and nurses work. They speak in hard voices, neither calm nor frantic, but simply determined. One of them is ripping sensors from Thomas’ chest and the other pulls out what Alexander recognizes as a defibrillator. There’s a whine as the machine charges and the doctor grabs the paddles.

“Clear,” he says. A second later, Thomas’ whole body jolts, a his chest rising and thudding against the bed. The screeching doesn’t stop. “Clear.” Cody flinches in time with the thud, letting out a choked sob. Alexander squeezes tight and watches the nurse’s back in front of him. She’s preparing syringes, filling them with clear and colored liquids. “Clear.”

Alexander screws his eyes shut. He can’t watch anymore, just listens as the nurses talk back and forth. Thomas’ body convulses again. Cody jerks, sobbing openly, begging Thomas to wake up. Alexander bites his tongue. _You’re stronger than this, Thomas_ , Alexander thinks, _if you die, I will never forgive you for it._

“Clear.” _Thud_. “Clear.” _Thud._ “Clear.” _Thud_.

Alexander doesn’t know how long he sits there, listening to the resuscitation attempts. They shoot Thomas full of adrenaline and other drugs and try again and again and again.

Suddenly, there isn’t another ‘clear’ call. Alexander looks up. The doctor is looking down at Thomas, the paddles in his hands slowly dropping to his sides. _No_.

“Twenty minutes, no pulse,” he says. “I’m calling it.”

“No!” Cody yells. Alexander grips him to his chest, holding him the best he can despite how his arms now feel like led.

“Time of death, 5:16 PM,” the doctor says, monotone. Alexander can’t believe it. The nurses slowly back away from Thomas’ bedside, cleaning up the remains of their resuscitation efforts. One reaches up and turns off the heart monitor.

Thomas Jefferson is dead.

\-------------

They have to sedate Cody.

Alexander doesn’t have the presence of mind to try and calm the other man down. How can he bring Cody back to himself if Alexander can’t even feel his own body? He’s floating ten feet above his head. The feeling of puppet strings controlling him is back, his limbs somehow moving of their own accord.

He sits in Cody’s room, blankly staring at the wall. He can’t process anything, nothing is real. Thomas can’t be dead. There’s no way Thomas is _dead_. But Alexander watched them unhook every form of life support from Thomas, saw them cover Thomas’ body with that white sheet and wheel him out of the room.

Thomas is dead. Deceased. Passed on. Gone to the eternal hunting grounds. Met his maker and kicked the bucket. The reaper came for him and took him away. Alexander can think of a thousand ways to say it but none of them feel real.

Thomas is dead.

Cody, half out of his mind with drugs, cries softly into his hospital pillow. P.J. is on speaker phone, whispering condolences and trying his best to calm Cody down. Cody is long since done screaming at Alexander, anger giving way underneath the sway of sedatives. Cody’s words batter at Alexander’ head even in the silence.

 _“No, Alexander. Fuck you. You hurt Thomas,” Cody spits. “You did this to him. You’re the reason he’s dying!” Alexander doesn’t speak, doesn’t defend himself. “If it weren’t for you, Thomas would be okay.” There are still tears running down Cody’s cheeks. “I want you out of here. I want you nowhere near here when Thomas wakes up. When he opens his eyes, it’s going to be, and only me here. The good Alexander. The one who didn’t hurt him. The one who loves him!_ ”

_“Cody,” Alexander chokes out. “Thomas isn’t going to wake up. Please, you’re relapsing. Think for a second. This isn’t you, you aren’t me.”_

_“You’re right,” Cody growls. “I’m not you because you’re a piece of shit and I’m the only Alexander that treats Thomas right!”_

Thomas is dead and it’s Alexander’s fault.

Memories begin to arise in Alexander’s mind, unbidden. Thomas, seven years old, giggling as Alexander chases him across an open field. Twenty-nine and naked, breathless, handsome. Twelve years old and blushing in the moonlight, one hand tangled in Alexander’s. Thirty and sleeping, body curled protectively around Alexander. Ten and giggling at some inside joke over a fire. Young and _alive_.

Two things Thomas will never be again.

The thought grips Alexander’s heart with a cold hand. He shakes, his whole body unable to hold up under the weight of what’s just happened. Alexander holds himself, gripping his shoulders tightly. He can’t cry, doesn’t deserve to cry.

Eleven years old and covered in tie-dye paint. Thirty and making Alexander pancakes.

Alexander takes a shuddering breath.

Eleven and running into a tree. Twenty-eight and looking at Alexander with those longing eyes, begging Alexander to come just a bit closer…

 _What are you going to do?_ Thomas’ voice echoes in Alexander’s head.

The only thing he can do. Alexander stands, fishes his phone from his pocket and steps outside of Cody’s room. He searches his contacts until he finds James’ number. Thomas’ sister already knows, but it’s up to Alexander to let people still in New York know. He dials, waits.

“James Madison,” James’ voice is tired, disinterested. The man sniffles, sick like always.

“James, it’s Alexander,” Alexander says, trying to figure out how to break the news.

“I know. What do you want?”

“Well, I…” Alexander takes a breath. Starts from where it’s easiest. “I’m in a hospital in Virginia.”

“Okay,” James says, uncertainty in his voice. Alexander leans against the wall and shuts his eyes. He doesn’t want to do this. He regrets deciding to do this. But it’s too late to back out now.

“I’m here with Cody Shuck. We came down to talk to Thomas about some things.” Alexander hesitates. James stays silent, waiting. “We walked in on Thomas trying to kill himself.”

He hears the sharp intake of breath. “ _Trying_?” James asks. “You mean you stopped him, right. He’s okay. Well, not _okay_ , but he’s safe. Thomas is safe, _right?_ ”

Alexander takes a breath, pushes down the tears threatening to come, and says it as quickly as his mouth will allow. “Thomas is dead.”

James goes silent. Alexander listens to them both breathe, letting it sink in. After a moment, when Alexander thinks it’s safe to speak without sobbing, he says: “We got him to the hospital, but he lost so much blood. He went into cardiac arrest and they… they couldn’t bring him back, James. He’s gone.”

James doesn’t speak for what seems like hours. Then, quickly, he mutters “I have to go,” and hangs up. Alexander hears the line go dead, and listens to the silence. All of a sudden, it feels more real now that Alexander has said it out loud.

Thomas is dead.

Alexander makes a mental list of anyone who might want to know and starts dialing.

“Washington, Thomas is dead.”

“Lafayette, Thomas is dead.”

“Burr, Thomas is dead.”

He repeats the words until they start sounding like nonsense again.

John, Angelica, Peggy, Eliza.

“Thomas is dead.”

 _Thomas is dead_.

\---------------

The showing is five days later. Alexander books a hotel room and buys P.J. a plane ticket. The kid has to miss work, and he’s bringing Alexander and Cody clothes, so it’s the least Alexander can do.

Cody is discharged from the hospital, still rapidly cycling between Alex and himself. He doesn’t talk to Alexander. Doesn’t eat or shower. Alexander has to beg him to change his clothes. P.J. arrives from New York on day two and has a little more luck, feeding Cody soup and getting him to wash his hands and face, if nothing else. Even with P.J. around, Cody doesn’t speak in more than a hushed whisper.

P.J. talks to Alexander, though. When he shows up at the hotel, the first words he speaks are “How bad?”

“Real bad,” is Alexander’s response, holding the room door open for the man. Cody, sat on the edge of his bed and staring out the window blankly, doesn’t even react when P.J. comes in. He doesn’t move when P.J. kneels in front of him and starts talking in a low voice. Slowly, eventually, Cody turns to look at his boyfriend, and P.J. practically pulls Cody off the bed and into his arms.

Sometimes Alexander walks in on the two of them holding each other and rocking silently. He always feels like he’s intruding on something important, and leaves as quickly as possible. Alexander doesn’t spend much time at the hotel once P.J. arrives. Instead, he opts to take long walks around Richmond, thinking and trying to parse everything out in his head.

Sometimes he wonders if Thomas ever walked the streets Alexander’s walking now.

Once, he stops by the University of Virginia, where Thomas had gotten his graduate degree. He wanders campus until his finds the law school building. Inside, he asks around, sees if anyone remembers Thomas. One of the professors does; a woman around Alexander’s age named Martha. She went to school with Thomas; they used to date before Thomas left for New York. Alexander has to break the news to her too.

Most of the time though, Alexander just wanders. Wanders until he gets lost and wanders until he knows where he is again. Wanders through streets while his mind wanders through memories.

The shriek of playing children reminds him of younger days.

\--------------

_“You don’t believe me?” Thomas asks, quiet enough not to disturb the other boys in the tent. Alexander shakes his head._

_“I think you’re lying to me, Thomas,” he retorts. “There’s no way you can do a backflip.”_

_“Oh yeah? Wanna bet?” Thomas challenges._

_“Condiment bar seat for breakfast tomorrow?” Alexander offers._

_“You’re on.” Thomas sits up, gets out of bed and slides on his shoes. Alexander sits up slowly, keeping an eye on the other sleeping figures in the tent. “One and done, okay?” Thomas says. Alexander nods. He’s expecting Thomas to do it right there in the center of the tent, but Thomas has other plans._

_Thomas creeps to the other side of the tent, pulls open the flap, secures it to the side, and climbs up onto the flat railing. Alexander, slightly concerned but also intrigued, cocks an eyebrow as if to say_ what are you waiting for?

_Thomas grins, teeth shining slightly in the moonlight, crouches, and launches himself backwards. Alexander watches him tumble backwards through the air, travelling out towards the woods and down. Thomas plants his feet on the leaf-covered ground, and Alexander thinks Thomas has stuck the landing._

_Then Thomas’ feet slide out from under him and he face-plants onto the ground, throwing his hands out in a weak attempt to save himself. Alexander hears something snap, probably a twig. Ignoring the sleepy rustlings of the other boys, Alexander rushes to the back of the tent to find Thomas on the ground, cradling an obviously broken wrist._

_Somehow, despite this, Thomas stays at camp._

\------------

James arrives and ends up at the same hotel as Alexander, Cody and P.J.. They pass by each other in the lobby as Alexander is heading out for the third of his thrice-daily walks. They lock eyes, but neither one says a word. There’s nothing to say. Alexander just walks past him and out the front door.

It gets dark, Alexander usually uses this as a cue to start walking back but tonight he doesn’t want to. Maybe it’s the threat of seeing James again, but Alexander walks until he ends up in a forested park at the edge of the city.. He has to pull out his phone and walk by flashlight but the whisper of the trees around him gives him something he needs. Not peace or solace, but merely comfort. He can feel it will be temporary, only lasting as long as Alexander’s time here tonight does.

The sound of the forest around him at night surrounds him. The chirping of crickets brings back yet another memory

\---------------

_Alexander leads Thomas out to the hill with only the express purpose of having one last adventure with him. Not that Alexander wants this to be the last adventure, far from it actually. But Alexander’s life has been so full of lasts recently he’s starting to think in them. The last time he’d seen his father serves as a turning point. The last time his brother James had been home was yet another. Momma’s last paycheck from getting laid off from her job was the most recent._

_Yes, Alexander has begun to consider his future as a series of ‘last times’ rather than ‘next times.’_

_So one last adventure with Thomas it is. Through the woods in the dead of night and up a grassy hill to stare at the brightest expanse of stars either boy has ever seen. Alexander is so acutely aware of Thomas on the ground beside him. He feels their breathing pattern start to match up. They whisper to each other, mostly about next year. Thomas says he’s coming, but Alexander knows that_ saying _something and actually doing it means two different things. A thought strikes him, out of the blue. But once it’s in his head, he can’t let it go so he turns his head to the side and says:_

_“Thomas, promise me something. Promise me that it’s going to be you and me forever. That in twenty years, you’ll still be my friend and I’ll still be yours and we’ll be together forever.”_

_It’s a pipe dream, Alexander knows. There will be a time Thomas leaves, but for now, Alexander wants to hear it. Wants to believe there will be no ‘last time’ with Thomas. Thomas starts, his head turning to look at Alexander. His eyes are wide, longing for something. Alexander doesn’t know what. His reply is barely above a whisper._

_“I promise.”_

_And in that moment, Alexander thinks he loves Thomas. Loves him like he loves momma, which is with all his heart, and more than he loves his father, which is not at all. That must be what the emotion spilling into his chest is. He wants to tell Thomas, but no words spring to mind. Words aren’t good enough sometimes, Alexander knows. So actions will have to do. What do you do when you love somebody?_

_You kiss them._

_The answer is so obvious and simple, but scary at the same time. He’s only ever kissed momma, his father and James. He steadies himself, inches his head forward. Thomas’ eyes widen ever so slightly and Alexander immediately regrets everything he’s ever done in life ever. He shoots up into a sitting position, trying to forget he almost tried to kiss the only friend he’s ever really had in this world. There’s a beat of silence, Alexander trying to steady his breathing and refusing to look at Thomas._

_“Was I not supposed to say that?” Thomas sounds so scared when he says it. Alexander jumps, and snaps his head to look around. Thomas’ eyes are full of fear and Alexander feels guilty for putting it there._

_“No, you were, I-”_ I was about to kiss you? _Is that what Alexander should say? He has no idea._

_“What’s wrong, then?” Thomas asks, inching closer. Alexander shakes his head._

_“Nothing, Thomas,” he says, hoping his friend will forget everything. But Thomas’ expression tells him that Thomas doesn’t believe him. Thomas is a couple seconds away from asking him again and Alexander is filled with such joy at having a friend who actually_ cares _about him that he moves almost without thinking._

 _The kiss is short, like he kisses momma. Just a little peck on Thomas’ lips and Alexander backs away. He watches Thomas blink rapidly, as if the other boy can’t comprehend what just happened. Alexander feels his face start to heat up. He did the wrong thing. Thomas is going to be mad and leave him here._ This _is his ‘last time’ with Thomas and Thomas is never going to want to be around him again and-_

_Thomas grabs Alexander’s hand. Their fingers interlock and Thomas smiles warmly at Alexander. Both boys are blushing hard in the dark._

_Thomas stays with him on that hill._

\------------

More people arrive. Washington and the Schuylers are in a different hotel. Angelica calls Alexander to tell him that she and her sisters are only there to support him. Alexander feels sick at the thought of telling them the whole truth and so leaves them to live in their ignorance. John doesn’t come, but Alexander didn’t think he would. At some point James tells P.J. that Burr arrives sometime the day before the showing and P.J. lets Alexander know. Burr doesn’t reach out though.

Outside of people contacting him, though, Alexander stays to himself. He can’t handle other people right now. Which is why he figures he likes his walks so much. Nothing but him and his thoughts, no matter how painful they are.

The morning before the showing, Alexander heads out for his morning walk and immediately runs head-first into someone on the sidewalk. Alexander stumbles, just managing to catch himself on the other person’s arms. With a basic, muttered apology on his lips, Alexander looks up to see who he managed to nearly fall on.

His breath stops.

It’s Thomas.

Thomas blinks down at him, concern and worry on his face. He pulls Alexander back up into a standing position, but Alexander’s knees almost give out on him. He scans Thomas’ face, disbelieving but wanting _oh so hard_ for it to be true. He clutches at Thomas’ arms, trying to pull Thomas down to look at him better or pull Thomas into his arms or even climb up Thomas to give him the biggest, hardest hug Alexander has ever given. It’s a miracle, and Alexander doesn’t want to question it, he only wants it to be real, to be true, to be-

“Alexander, mon ami?” Thomas asks, voice heavy with a French accent. “Are you alright?”

Alexander stops, his fingertips digging into the man’s upper arms. Thomas isn’t French. The voice coming from Thomas is, it’s French and now that Alexander thinks about it this Thomas is too short, too trim to be Thomas. The arms under Alexander’s hands aren’t muscular but wiry and lean. His hair is wrong too, not poofy or thick enough to be Thomas’.

Alexander realizes it’s Lafayette, not Thomas.

Because Thomas is dead.

Alexander lets go of Lafayette’s arms, takes a near stumbling step back. “I… I’m sorry,” he breathes. Lafayette watches him, worry dancing across his features. “I thought… I thought…” Alexander can’t say it. He takes another step backwards, and another.

“Alexander, I came to see you. You’re not answering our calls or texts and we’re worried,” Lafayette says. Alexander swallows hard.

“Don’t,” he says, shaking his head. “Don’t worry about me.” Alexander glances behind him. There’s no one on the sidewalk to block his path. “I have to go.” With that, Alexander rushes away from Lafayette, breaking out into a full on run when he hears the Frenchman call out after him.

Alexander runs as far as his legs will carry him. He runs until he’s gasping for breath at a stoplight blocks away from his hotel. He lost count of how many blocks he ran and how many turns he made. But he doesn’t have a single clue where he is. Alexander leans against the pole, nearly bent over in the middle, and fights back the tears.

He can’t cry. He doesn’t deserve to cry. Not like this, not over Thomas when what happened to Thomas was his own damn fault. Alexander wants to scream, to punch the pole as hard as he can, but he had neither the air in his lungs or the blind emotion to do either of those things.

Thomas’ face dances in front of his eyes. Handsome, polished Thomas smiles at him from a memory that’s since faded around the sight of Thomas’ blinding grin. Alexander screws his eyes shut, trying to banish the sight from his mind, but it stays with him.

\-----------

_Neither Alexander nor Thomas are boys anymore, and almost twenty years of separation has changed each of them. Alexander is tired, exhausted after two lifetimes of loss and work compacted into twenty-eight years. He can feel everything weigh down on him like anchors, but he fights to keep his shoulders straight and his head high. If there’s anything the hurricane and two tours of duty taught him, it’s how to keep his pride intact._

_Thomas on the other hand seemed to have lived in the lap of luxury almost his entire life. He’s smooth where Alexander is rough. Lean and sculpted where Alexander is bulky and built up. Charming and cool where Alexander is loud and temperamental. Thomas carries himself with poise, confidence and a certain holier-than-thou attitude that manages to worm it’s way under Alexander’s skin._

_However, Alexander can admit that Thomas Jefferson is undeniably smoking hot. To claim that Alexander wouldn’t want to run his hands over the abs he’s most certain Thomas has would be to tell the most outrageous lie the world has ever heard. If even just once, there’s not a whole lot Alexander wouldn’t do if it meant one night with Thomas motherfucking Jefferson._

_Which is why Alexander is thrilled when he starts to notice the way Thomas looks at him. it’s slight, but Alexander can see the longing there, the way Thomas stares just a bit too long at Alexander over business dinners. Or how Thomas preens under Alexander’s laughter or touch. Alexander finds he doesn’t mind the extra attention Thomas gives him, he actually loves it. To be the center of attention for once is amazing._

_So Alexander starts to play into it. He lets Thomas catch him admiring Thomas’ ass. Lets his congratulatory pats on the shoulder linger for just a fraction too long. He tests the waters, trying to make sure he’s not reading the signals wrong. From the way Thomas’ breath hitches when Alexander puts a hand on his lower back tells the shorter man he’s most certainly not reading his friend wrong._

_Which is why Alexander invites Thomas to his apartment one Friday night under the guise of drinking to a long work week. Why he gets Thomas on his couch with the excuse of drunkenly reviewing movies together. Why, not ten minutes into the movie, Alexander leans his head against Thomas’ shoulder and curls into the other man’s side._

_Thomas doesn’t react, not in a huge way at least. His eyes dart to Alexander for a fraction of a second, then back to the screen. Alexander snuggles in closer, forcing Thomas’ arm up and around his shoulders. Thomas shifts slightly, creating a better space for Alexander and the Caribbean hums to himself._

_Ten minutes later, Alexander stretches his arms, letting one of his hands fall onto Thomas’ knee. Once again, Thomas glances at it, his expression unreadable. Once Alexander thinks Thomas is comfortable with the position, he slowly inches his hand up Thomas’ thigh._

_Thomas stiffens, but he doesn’t look. He keeps his gaze locked on the screen, but Alexander can see the way his jaw is working. Alexander slides his hand up further, feeling Thomas flinch under his touch. Slightly frustrated Thomas isn’t taking the bait, Alexander is also amused that the man is so shy. Then again, Thomas is letting Alexander do what he wants, letting Alexander’s hand travel further and further towards its intended destination._

_Then, just as Alexander’s pinky brushes Thomas’ crotch, Thomas’ hand flies to Alexander’s wrist and grabs on tight. Alexander swallows._ Maybe I haven't been reading Thomas right _, he thinks. He doesn’t look up at Thomas, feeling the shame start to bloom across his face. Alexander pulls his hand away from Thomas’ leg, only getting a centimeter off before Thomas’ grip stops him._

_Confused, he looks up to find Thomas looking at him, pupils blown wide. “Alexander,” he breathes, his voice already shaking. Alexander, relieved, smirks and gives Thomas his best bedroom eyes. Alexander puts his hand right back where it was, and keeps his eyes locked on Thomas’ as it completes its journey._

_Then Thomas is yanking Alexander’s hand away so he can pull the shorter man into his lap. Alexander goes willingly, straddling Thomas and pushing down on the Thomas’ growing hardness between them. He locks their lips and from there it’s easy._

_In the morning, Thomas stays._

\------------

Lafayette is waiting for Alexander when he comes back to the hotel. Alexander can see him through the rotating glass doors, and they lock eyes through the windows. Alexander pauses outside the hotel, steeling himself for the confrontation. He can see in Lafayette’s face that the other man isn’t going to let Alexander go so easily this time.

Alexander takes a breath and steps forward, excuses already on the tip of his tongue. Meaningless words to spout until Alexander can rush into his room, grab lunch and head out again. He puts his hand on the door, ready to head in when a familiar figure walks into view. Hercules Mulligan comes in from the direction Alexander knows to be the bathroom. The hulking man comes up beside Lafayette, unaware of Alexander’s presence until Lafayette says something and Herc turns.

They, too, make eye-contact through the glass, and it’s too much. Lunch isn’t important anyway.

Alexander takes off again, the sight of Herc together with someone that looks that much like Thomas is ripping his heart out and smashing it on the ground.

\------------

_Alexander lies awake one night almost two months into his and Thomas’ arrangement when Alexander admits he’s seeing Hercules. They’re naked, curled around each other and the stench of sex is still heavy. Thomas’ arms are around Alexander’s chest and Alexander expects them to retract, for Thomas to kick him out of the bed and scream and yell and do all sorts of other things._

_He feels Thomas stiffen, hears him take a deep breath. “And?” Thomas asks. Alexander blinks._

_“And?” he repeats, dumbfounded. He feels Thomas nods against the back of his head._

_“And? What about him?”_

_“I’m… I’m dating him Thomas,” he says._

_“Okay.”_

_“Okay?!” Alexander repeats, unable to comprehend what Thomas is saying._

_“Okay. Now go to sleep,” Thomas mutters, settling into Alexander’ back and pulling him closer. Alexander wiggles, turns to he can look Thomas in the eye._

_“What do you mean, ‘okay?’” Alexander insists. Thomas cracks open one bleary eye to look at him._

_“Okay. Definition: acceptance, agreement or assent to,” Thomas drawls, voice sleepy and still slightly wrecked._

_“I know the definition of the word, smart ass,” Alexander grumbles. “But why is me dating Herc ‘okay?’”_

_“It’s okay because I’m okay with it. Now go to sleep,” Thomas says, impatiently. He shuts his eye again and Alexander hits him on the chest._

_“It’s not okay, Thomas,” Alexander exclaims, “I just cheated on him.” Thomas opens his eyes long enough to give him a withering look, then shuts his eyes again. “We’re not done talking about this!” Alexander insists, hitting Thomas again. Thomas groans, but dutifully opens his eyes again. Alexander sits up, breaking out of Thomas’ embrace._

_“What is there to talk about?” Thomas asks, holding himself up on his elbows. Alexander frowns at him._

_“We can’t do this again, Thomas,” he says, motioning to Thomas’ bed like it’s the only reason he’s here and not because Alexander is a no-good cheater._

_“And why not?” Thomas asks. Alexander gapes at him, eyes threatening to pop out of his head._

_“How do you not understand this?” Alexander asks. Thomas shrugs._

_“It seems like you’re the one not understanding. I’m okay with you seeing Herc or whoever.” Thomas blows a strand of hair out of his face._

_“But- but-” Alexander struggles to find the right words. “If I’m with Herc, you and I can’t… we can’t be… us,” he finishes lamely. Thomas cocks one eyebrow._

_“Nothing, not Herc, not anything, changes what you and I are.”_

_So Thomas stays._

\------------

The morning of the showing, Alexander gets halfway ready for his walk before remembering what today’s events are going to be. He nearly breaks down in the shower when it hits him. He has to see Thomas today.

He has to face _everyone_ today.

Getting dressed is near impossible because his hands shake so hard he can’t finger the buttons on his shirt closed. He has no idea how much everyone knows or how much he’s going to have to say. Hell, he doesn’t even know if it’s going to be closed or open casket, and the thought of open casket terrifies him.

He makes P.J. drive, not trusting his ability to keep the car straight. He and Cody sit in the front seats, Alexander in the back. He feels like pedestrians and the people in other cars are staring at him, like they know his guilt. The drive is silent, P.J. and Cody holding hands in the front seat while Alexander rots.

They pull into the funeral home and sit for a moment. Cody, surprisingly, is the first to get out of the car. P.J. follows quickly, keeping up with his boyfriend as they head inside the old, colonial style building. Alexander watches them go, waits until they disappear inside to put his hand on the car door. He climbs out slowly, feeling the wind whip his hair out of its ponytail. For a second, he considers walking away. Taking off down the street and not actually going in.

But he has to go in. Has to say goodbye.

The door chimes quietly as he enters, his feet hitting plush carpeting and the air suddenly cool. There’s a guestbook on a table, and Alexander signs it absentmindedly. Someone, likely an employee stands to the side. He nods sympathetically at Alexander in what must be a very practiced motion.

Alexander walks down a thin hallway that dead ends, a large double door leading to the right. Inside, people mill about, dressed in shades of black and dark blue, murmuring quietly to one another. Standing directly in the back of the room, Alexander almost feels like he walked into a forest of people. Thomas’ family is here, there are a lot of them, and most of them are giants. He recognizes Thomas’ sister- the one Thomas had stayed with briefly- nods at her. Though Alexander moves to slip away, she disengages from the older woman she’s speaking to and makes her way to Alexander’s side.

“I just wanted to say, thank you again for everything,” she says.

Alexander shakes his head. “Don’t,” he croaks out. “Don’t thank me.” She frowns, and Alexander can see her eyes are puffy and red.

“You tried to save him, and we- his family- are grateful. There was nothing else you could have done. Thank you,” she insists. Alexander feels sick.

“If you need to thank someone, thank Cody,” he says. She opens her mouth, but a new arrival inadvertently saves Alexander and he slips away from her. Alexander pushes his way through the crowd of strangers until he manages reach the middle of the room. The people are thinner here, giving way to rows and rows of folding chairs. Some people are sitting down, Cody and P.J. are in the front right corner by themselves.

“Alexander?”

Alexander turns, not wanting to face Lafayette but doing it anyway. The tall Frenchman looks less like Thomas with his hair pulled back but the sight of him still sends a pang of horrible guilt and longing through Alexander. He’s dressed almost in all black, a trim suit that Alexander could almost see Thomas wearing himself. Hercules stands a few steps behind, not approaching but not looking away either.

“Are you… are you alright?” Lafayette asks. Alexander nods quickly.

“Yeah, Laf, I’m fine,” he lies. Lafayette tries to reach for him, but Alexander leans back to avoid his hand.

“Why do you avoid me then?” Laf asks, genuinely concerned and confused. “You are not one to run from your friends.”

“Have you looked in a mirror lately?” Alexander asks, the words spilling out before he can think. Lafayette blinks, frown etching deeper onto his face.

“ _Mon petit lion, tu-_ ”

“Don’t,” Alexander breaks in. “I… I don’t want to talk to anyone, okay?” He takes a step back, trying to look anywhere but Lafayette’s face.

“You need to,” Lafayette insists. “Thomas died in front of you, and-”

“I know Laf, I know,” Alexander interrupts. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“But-”

“I said no!” Alexander nearly shouts. People around them still and look, a dozen gazes or so suddenly on Alexander. He squirms, shifting his weight back and forth. He coughs. “Sorry,” he mutters. People send him one last glare and slowly return to their conversations. Alexander risks a glance over his shoulder to find P.J., one arm wrapped around Cody’s shoulders, looking at him in something akin to pity. Cody stares straight ahead at the wall.

Alexander looks back at Lafayette, only to find his old friend has returned to Herc’s side. Herc mutters something to Lafayette, who nods and wipes at his eye with one hand. The other hand, Alexander notices, is gripped in Hercules’. Alexander doesn’t have long to speculate before Herc leans over and plants a short kiss on Lafayette’s cheek.

Alexander spins on a dime, looking for something, _anything_ else to focus on. Empty chairs, mourning strangers, pots of flowers and-

Fuck.

The only other thing in the room is the coffin. Dark, shining wood and glittering silver handles, Thomas’ coffin is simple but beautiful. It’s an open showing, so the top half is up, revealing thick white ruffles that frame Thomas’ body. Thomas himself lies still, surrounded by the white fabric. Somebody had chosen to dress him in deep magenta and fan his hair around his head like a cloud.

Alexander thinks Thomas looks as if he is only sleeping, eyes shut and face relaxed. He swears he almost sees Thomas’ chest move, sees him breathe again. But Thomas lays still, no true breath filling or escaping his lungs. Thomas is to be buried in long sleeves, his palms turned in on his chest so the wounds on his arms aren’t visible. On his chest is a small bouquet of flowers, purple hyacinths stopping just short of Thomas’ chin.

Thomas almost looks beautiful, now that the the pain of the last five years is gone from his face and he rests peacefully.

Alexander finds himself drawn to Thomas’ side, doesn’t register that he’s crossed the room until he’s standing beside the coffin and looking down. The suit really does look good on him, despite either the circumstances or what Alexander might have told Thomas in the past. Alexander is seized with the urge to reach out, to take Thomas’ hand one last time or shake him until he wakes or kiss his lips. Alexander wants to gather Thomas into his arms and will him back to life, to mutter apologies until Thomas hugs back and forgives him.

He settles for placing one hand on the back of Thomas’, rubbing his thumb along the cold skin.

\------------

_“I love you,” Thomas mutters into Alexander’s shoulder, half asleep. Alexander ignores it, Thomas says it all the time and they both know it means nothing. He waits until Thomas is fully out before he slips out of the sheets, pulls on his clothes and leaves. On his way out, he texts Aaron._

**_Sorry babe. Meeting ran late. Omw._ **

_By the time Alexander is in Burr’s arms, he’s forgotten all about any “I love you’s,” but not about Thomas. When he’s kissing Burr, he misses Thomas’ stubble against his cheek. When Burr is underneath him, Alexander can’t help but think that his body is all wrong. Aaron isn’t tall enough, thin enough, isn’t_ Thomas _enough. Their bodies don’t fit together right._

_Even as Burr is chanting Alexander’s name like a prayer, he misses the way Thomas treats him like a god._

_Thomas stays in his thoughts, despite the way the guilt eats at Alexander._

\------------

Alexander realizes he’s clutching Thomas’ hand much too tightly, but can’t bring himself to let go. Not yet, he can’t let go yet. He can’t do this, can’t say goodbye, not with things how they are.

He feels the tears threatening to form, to spill over his cheeks and disrespect Thomas’ memory. Alexander hangs his head, biting his tongue to keep them at bay. He can’t do this. He doesn’t deserve to cry. He can’t cry and he can’t let go. _God_ , he’s so pathetic. His breath is starting to hitch.

 _No, stop it,_ he tells himself, _stop it now._

\------------

_John is so much different than Thomas, but maybe that’s for the best. John looks different enough that it’s harder to imagine Thomas in his place. John is easy where Thomas is hard, but shares that same fire that made Alexander want Thomas to begin with. So Alexander lets himself fall in love with John Laurens. Lets himself fall in love with the man’s smile and freckles and the way he laughs at the stupidest shit. Lets himself fall in love with all the parts that manage to remind him of Thomas too._

_Alexander falls into a routine: once a week at Thomas’, the next day is spent full of regrets, and the rest of the time focused on John._

_When John asks him to move in with him, Alexander doesn’t hesitate to say yes._

_When he tells Thomas, he’s expecting another ‘okay.’ Another ‘this doesn’t change anything.’ Another ‘I’ll always be here.’_

_What he gets is kicked out of Thomas’ place._

_As Alexander scrambles to pick up the things Thomas threw through windows, Alexander replays the last two years in his mind. Where had Thomas gotten the wrong idea? What had happened? He struggles to pull on his pants and just manages to dodge the picture tossed Frisbee-style at his head. It hits the ground next to Alexander and he picks it up, listening to Thomas scream obscenities at him._

_“Get the fuck off my lawn, do you hear me you asshole?” Thomas hollers from the upstairs window._

_“Thomas!” Alexander tries to call back. He has to fix this, has to-_

_“Two years! You little shit, two years!” Is all he gets back. Alexander goes to call again when a hand comes down on his shoulder._

_“Alexander, mon ami. What is going on here?” Alexander turns to find Lafayette standing there, confusion and bewilderment on his face. Alexander juggles everything he has in his arms and tries to think up an excuse._

_“I swear to god, I will call the fucking cops if you don’t leave!” Thomas yells, though his head has disappeared back inside. “I don’t ever want to see you again, you motherfucking asshole!”_

_“What is Thomas screaming about?” Lafayette asks. “Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?” Alexander swallows, glances back at Thomas’ front door and says:_

_“Laf, can you just get me out of here, I’ll explain.”_

_Which is how Alexander ends up in the front seat of Lafayette’s car, shirtless, recounting everything that happened over the past two years as Lafayette drives him back to John’s place. Lafayette has gone stone silent, hands clutching the steering wheel tight enough to turn his knuckles pale. Alexander eyes Lafayette’s phone, sitting in the cup holder._

_“Please,” he says, “Please don’t tell John. I… I can’t lose John too.”_

_“Too?” Lafayette asks, voice hard. Alexander nods._

_“Too. I don’t think Thomas is going to let me back in after this.”_

_“Perhaps that is a good thing, no?” Lafayette asks. Alexander hesitates._

_“I… Lafayette you don’t understand. I know cheating is wrong, but… but it’s like… Thomas is… infatuating. I’m addicted to him, Laf. I can’t stop going back, okay? No matter what happens, Thomas was always been there and I always go back to him and… if given the choice I’d go back in a heartbeat so it’s good and it’s bad and I don’t know anymore,” he finishes lamely._

_“And you wish me to keep this secret of yours?”_

_“Yes! Please! Promise me, you won’t breathe a word of this to John.”_

_Lafayette sighs. “He won’t hear of it from my mouth.”_

_Alexander lets out a breath of relief. “You’re the best, Laf.”_

_Lafayette hums in response. He drops Alexander off at John’s apartment building and speeds off. Alexander throws on his shirt, adjusts himself in the reflection of a window, and heads upstairs to his boyfriend. He lets himself in._

_“Hey John! I’m here, okay? Gotta use your bathroom,” he says, moving as fast as possible to John’s second bathroom. He’s got to wash as much Thomas off of him as possible. Thomas has a certain sent to him that Alexander knows likes to stick to his skin and clothes. John doesn’t respond, and he doesn’t catch Alexander on the last leg of his cover-up journey. Alexander shuts himself in the bathroom with a sigh of relief._

_When he thinks himself clean enough to pass inspection, he bites the inside of his lip and heads for the bedroom. If he’s fast enough, he can change and throw his old clothes into the laundry hamper before-_

_John is standing by their bed, holding his phone in one hand, shell-shocked expression on his face. It almost looks like John is about to cry, but his eyes stare unseeing at the floor. The quiet sounds of someone’s voice play from the phone, and for a second Alexander thinks John just has someone on speaker. Then he hears his own voice and Alexander’s stomach plummets._

_“I know cheating is wrong, but… but it’s like… Thomas is… infatuating. I’m addicted to him, Laf.” Alexander’s voice comes through, pleading, desperate. “I can’t stop going back, okay? No matter what happens, Thomas was always been there and I always go back to him and…if given the choice I’d go back in a heartbeat so it’s good and it’s bad and I don’t know anymore.”_

_“And you wish me to keep this secret of yours?” Lafayette._

_“Yes! Please! Promise me, you won’t breathe a word of this to John.” Alexander again. There’s a beep as John shuts off the recording._

_“Lafayette just sent me this recording, while you were in the bathroom,” John chokes out, his voice hoarse._

_“John-” Alexander starts, trying to come up with something to say. He’s already seeing everything crumble in front of him and he needs to stop it before he can’t fix it anymore._

_“I’ve listened to it twice trying to find the part where you tell Laf that you’re messing with him and it’s all a big fat lie.”_

_“John, let me explain.”_

_“There’s nothing you need to explain to me. It’s the whole conversation. Start-to-end.” John’s voice is starting to rise. “There’s nothing in this recording I didn’t understand.”_

_“No, please,” Alexander tries to take a step forward. He reaches for John, both arms open. “Listen to me. Thomas doesn’t matter. He never mattered, okay? It’s you that I care about. John, I love you so much-”_

_“But you’re ‘addicted-’” John spits the word like a curse, “to Thomas motherfucking Jefferson!” His voice cracks at the end. Alexander swallows._

_“That’s over now-”_

_“Because he kicked you out of his house!” John counters. “How long-” John cuts himself off, grits his teeth and keeps going. “How long would you have stayed with me while fucking him?”_

_“John-”_

_“_ How long, Alexander? _”_

_Alexander drops his arms slowly. “I don’t know,” he mutters. John’s face screws up into one of anger and pain. The sight of it sends a shot of regret flooding through Alexander._

_“You don’t know,” John says, voice hard and filled with rage. “You don’t_ fucking _know?!”_

_“I don’t know John, because it’s not going to ever happen again!” Alexander exclaims._

_“You’re damn right it’s not going to happen again.” John says. “Give me back my key.”_

_Alexander’s eyes widen. “What?”_

_“Give me my key. We’re done.”_

_Alexander’s heart stops. He can’t believe it. Thomas_ and _John. Both of them. He’s lost both of them in a matter of an hour. “John, please, give me a second chance!” He begs._

 _“You said you’d been sleeping with Thomas before you and I were_ ever _a thing. You don’t get a ‘second chance!’” John roars. “There’s no second chance for you to have! Give me back my key and get out of my life!”_

_“John,” Alexander breathes. He tries to step forward, tries to do anything but John scowls at him._

_“Fuck you,” John growls. “My key. Now.” Still Alexander hesitates, trying to think of something,_ anything _to say that might save this. Might get John to-_

_Then there’s multicolored glass flying at his face and Alexander only just manages to dodge it. The vase shatters against the wall and John glares at where it hit, breathing hard from sheer rage. Alexander gapes at him. “Did you just-”_

_“My. Key.”_

_Alexander digs in his back pocket for his keyring. Under John’s hateful glare he pries John’s apartment key off and drops it on the floor. It lands next to a shard of glass and bounces away from his feet. John doesn’t look at him when he runs from John’s room, flees out the front door and out of the building._

_Which is how Alexander ends up walking the forty minutes back to Thomas’ to pick up his car, only to have nowhere to go. He sits in his car and stares at Thomas’ front door, the regret starting to pool in his chest._

\------------

Alexander makes a strangled noise, his final attempt to save himself before the first tears start to fall. He holds onto the edge of the coffin like a life preserver, his knees going weak before going out entirely and Alexander collapses to the floor. His hand lets go of Thomas’, joining the other in holding onto the wooden lip of the coffin.

Alexander’s forehead hits the side of the coffin. His throat is closing up, he can’t breathe right, he’s struggling for air. Traitorous tears spill down his cheeks. His arms shake, his whole body shakes. There’s a keening noise from somewhere, maybe even his own mouth.

“I’m so sorry,” Alexander gasps out. His fingers slip from the coffin, catching part of the ruffle and pulling it down just far enough for Alexander to bury his face in it. It smells like Thomas’ cologne. The scent of it pushes Alexander over the edge and he begins to sob in earnest.

The room silences around him, but Alexander doesn’t care. “God, I’m so sorry, Thomas,” he says, voice muffled by the fabric. “I’m so fucking sorry,” he repeats. “I loved you, I swear I did. I was a blind fucking idiot, I’m so sorry.” His voice cracks. He picks up his head to stare at what part of Thomas’ face he can see from the ground.

“Please, Thomas, I… I love you, always did. Through everything, I swear. I was blind, scared, didn’t want to be in love, and so _fucking_ stupid.” Alexander takes a shuddering breath. His vision is blurred from the tears, he can barely see Thomas anymore. “You were right, I _wanted_ to choose you. I don’t know why I never did.”  He drops his head again, presses his face into the fabric and breathes as deep as he can. He needs to make sure the smell of Thomas is ingrained in his memory forever.

Thomas had never not mattered; Thomas had always stayed so he had mattered.

Fuck.

Why had he always gone back? Because Thomas had mattered.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Thomas matters so much.

“Fuck!” Alexander wails.

 _Thomas is dead_.

A hand comes down on Alexander’s shoulder. Alexander looks at it, follows the arm it’s connected to until he finds the hard-set face of James staring down at him. “Alexander,” he whispers. “It’s okay.”

Alexander shakes his head. “No, no it’s not. This is all my fault.” Tears cascade from his eyes, Alexander knows he must look a sight, all snot and tears. James looks down at him in sympathy, kneels, and pulls Alexander into his chest.

“You had no idea,” James consoles him, “you tried your best.”

“What are you talking about?” Alexander asks. If anyone, James should be the most angry with him.

“If it weren’t for you, Thomas would never have made it to the hospital. You gave him a chance to live. It’s not your fault. There was nothing more you could have done.”

Alexander gasps, twists his face away from James and tries to push himself out of the embrace. “No, that’s… I’m not talking about that,” he says. James hums.

“Then what?” He asks, starting to rock Alexander back and forth. James is trying to _comfort_ him. _Alexander_ of all people. Alexander squirms, struggles until he manages to push James away. Alexander lands on the floor, spilling out of James’ lap and scooting away.

“It’s my fault,” Alexander insists. “If it weren’t for me, Thomas wouldn’t be dead. He’d be alive and happy and- and-” he searches for words. The entire funeral home is silent, Alexander can feel the stares on him. James, hands uselessly in his lap, looks confused.

“Alexander, you were shitty to him, sure,” James says, carefully, “but you can’t seriously blame yourself for this. It was years ago.”

Alexander can feel his breathing speed up. He’s still sobbing and shaking, his arms only barely able to hold himself up. He shakes his head again, harder this time.

“You don’t understand!” He exclaims. “Thomas is dead because he felt guilty and blamed himself for what _I_ did.”

“You can’t possibly know-”

“He told me! He told me when I was holding him in that bathroom and he was dying and I was trying to apologize and he said- he said- he said he still loved me and it’s my fault James!” Alexander is yelling now, afraid his voice will fail him if he tries to talk any other way. Everything around him is still, but he feels like the walls are starting to close in on him. Thomas’ coffin looms large in his vision, James leers down at him and the crowd creeps closer menacingly.

“It’s my fault,” Alexander repeats. “If I hadn’t done what I did, Thomas would never have even _met_ Cody, he wouldn’t- he- he-” Alexander’s chest heaves. He can’t breathe, his chest burns, his lungs are collapsing, he has to get the words out. “He wouldn’t have done what he did to Cody and he wouldn’t be _dead_ now!”

The silence is deafening, Alexander feels like it’s screaming in his ears. He throws his hands over his head. The people are watching him, their eyes are boring into him and Alexander wants to run, wants to bolt out of here, he can’t be here anymore, not with Thomas, not with Thomas dead and cold and Alexander breathing and alive.

 _What are you going to do?_ Thomas asks. _What are you going to do now that you know?_

Alexander curls over his knees, panic and guilt and regret all swirling. He has to stand, has to get out of here. He tries to rise to his feet, but he’s shaking so hard he just falls over again. Sobbing, unable to breathe, and curled over himself on the ground Alexander wants nothing more than to die.

“It should be me,” he chokes out. “ _Me_ in that coffin. I’m the one that should be dead, not Thomas. _Me_. Me me me me-”

“Alexander.”

“I deserve it. It’s my fault, I should be dead. I deserve to die.”

“ _Alexander._ ”

“I should have died a thousand times and yet Thomas is gone and I-”

“Alexander Hamilton, listen to my voice,” someone commands. Alexander gulps, coughing as he breathes. “Can you hear me?” Alexander nods, not looking up. “Okay, I’m going to take your hand, is that alright?”

Alexander doesn’t respond, doesn’t move as the stranger gently puts his hand on Alexander’s, pulls it away from Alexander’s head and presses it against another surface. Alexander doesn’t know what’s happening, his hand flexes against the fabric but the person pushes it flat and still. Then Alexander notices his hand is moving, gently rising and falling.

“Alright, breathe with me,” the person says, voice kinder and quieter now. Alexander swallows, his throat still so painfully tight. He tries to match his breath to the movement of his hand and the chest beneath it. He keeps coughing, unable to get a full breath in his lungs and he can’t stop sobbing. “Focus, Alexander.”

Alexander feels his lungs start to fill more and more, the shaking starts to subside and Alexander finds he can think again. The storm in his mind is dissipating, he can breathe and the tears start to dry. Then he remembers that he’s _breathing_ and Thomas isn’t and another sob tears through him.

“Shh, shhh,” the person says, pulling Alexander into a more upright position. Alexander finds himself in a full embrace, the other person’s arms are wrapped around Alexander as tightly as possible. Alexander finds the side of his face smushed into what feels like a chest and his eyes crack open, though he’s not sure when he had shut them. The only thing he can see is black fabric, a hint of light peeking through around the arm in front of him.

They’re rocking slightly, back and forth as someone lays their head on top of Alexander’s. “It’s okay, shh,” they mutter. Alexander can feel their chest rumble as they speak, and it reminds him of-

“Thomas?” He whispers. The person sighs, and tightens their hold.

“No, I’m sorry.”

Alexander inhales, his breath starting to catch again. “I-I-”

“Don’t speak, just try and calm down.” The other person strokes Alexander’s back, muttering quiet condolences and kind nothings. Alexander controls his breathing as best he can. His tears are dry, it seems like he’s cried himself out. Now he just gasps against his anchor’s chest and tries to find his bearings again.

At some length, the person raises their head. “Do you think you can stand?” He asks. Alexander thinks for a second. His body has stopped shaking. He nods, still breathing hard. “Okay, let's get you back to the hotel then.” They lean back, standing and pulling Alexander up with them. Once steady on his own feet, Alexander turns to look at whoever is currently helping to hold him up by the waist.

“Cody?” He asks, voice shaking. The younger man smiles, and nods.

“Come on, let’s go,” Cody says, grabbing Alexander’s arm and taking a step forward. Alexander looks up at where they’re going. A crowd of strangers and a handful of friends looks back. Laf wavers on the edge of it, looking as if he wants to approach, but standing in place. Alexander catches a glimpse of Eliza, tears shining in her eyes. Washington’s lips are in a thin line and Burr won’t look at him.

Cody leads him slowly through the funeral home, past the chairs, through the small path clearing for them, and towards the door. Alexander feels everyone watching him; their confused, angry or pitying gazes driving holes into his skin. Just when they’re almost out, Alexander spots Thomas’ sister standing there by the door. She looks at him, her eyes wide and not understanding.

“I’m sorry,” Alexander croaks, his free hand reaching for her. “I’m so sorry I did this to your family.” She doesn’t move to take his hand, but opens her mouth to speak. Before she can, Cody tightens his grip on Alexander.

“You don’t have to apologize to her,” Cody murmurs. Alexander whips his head to look at him, and suddenly remembers that what happened to Cody is _his_ fault too. Alexander steps out of Cody’s arms, hits his hand away like it burns him. Cody blinks, reaches out for him again. Alexander takes another step back and shakes his head.

“I’m sorry, Cody,” he breathes. “I’m so-”

“Don’t apologize to me,” Cody interrupts. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Alexander takes a shaking breath, looking up at the man when he says: “Abuse occurs when someone goes through it without realizing what it is, and thinks it’s actual love, so they do it to others without realizing. You told me that yourself.” His mouth is dry, his voice harsh from yelling so much. Cody frowns, following Alexander’s thought process.

“That doesn’t mean you’re to blame,” Cody says.

“Yes it does,” Alexander admits. “I did it to Thomas, so he did it to you. I’m sorry Cody.”

“We shouldn’t be talking about this here,” Cody mutters pointedly to Alexander.

“If not here, where?” Alexander asks. “Everyone here deserves to know _I’m_ the reason everything is fucked. It’s _my_ fault Thomas did what he did.” His breathing starts to hitch again. Cody puts his hands on Alexander’s arms, holding the man still and squeezing.

“No, you’re not,” Cody insists. “What you did has no bearing on what Thomas did. You didn’t make him do anything. He _chose_ to do what he did. He made his own mistakes. The fact they resemble your mistakes is unfortunate.”

“Unfortunate? If I-”

“Alexander-” Cody’s fingertips dig into Alexander’s upper arms. “-I am not the one you should apologize to, neither is Thomas’ sister or anyone else. The only person you should apologize to is dead, and nothing can change that. There will be no closure, but you have to move on.”

 _Move on?_ How is Alexander supposed to move on after this? There is nothing to ‘move on’ to. Not now that Thomas is gone and it’s Alexander’s fault.

“What am I supposed to do?” He asks. Cody sighs.

“I don’t know.” Cody pulls on Alexander’s arm, and silently leads him out of the funeral home. P.J. follows, a few steps behind. No one stops them. On the way back to the hotel, Cody sits in the back with Alexander and holds him. They don’t speak. There’s nothing more to say.

\-----------

It takes Alexander six months to work up the courage to visit Thomas.

One morning he just wakes up with the unavoidable urge to go see him. Thankfully, the feeling hits on a Saturday and he flies to Richmond that morning. A cab ride later and Alexander pushes the cemetery gate open. He’s alone, there’s no one else here in late March.

Alexander hikes up the path, following the hill up to where he thinks the Jefferson family plot is. He can tell where it is because there’s a bunch of ornate headstones at the crest of the hill, surrounded by another wrought-iron fence. It really seems like the entire Jefferson family has the same sense of drama and showmanship that Thomas did.

Alexander tests the smaller gate, finds that it’s locked but that’s not stopping him now. He easily hops the fence, jumping over the pointed tips and sticking the landing. Looking over it, the plot is larger than Alexander had first guessed, with quite a few headstones. The one closest to Alexander is from 1874, but looks as though it’s been taken very good care of. He starts down the path, eyes scanning each carved rock quickly and moving on. He makes his way to where the headstones look the newest and the thinnest in number. There, tucked on the other side of the hill, is Thomas.

It’s the farthest one from the gate, and Alexander briefly thinks that the Jeffersons are going to have to buy more land soon if Thomas had to be buried this close to the far side of the fence. Unlike many of his ancestors’, Thomas’ tombstone is surprisingly simple. It rises to Alexander’s knees, and only bears simple carvings in white stone. There are no statutes or ornate carvings on Thomas’. The top and sides have small grooves, similar to a curtain, but nothing else. The middle reads:

_Thomas Jefferson_

_1980-2016_

And nothing else. The stone to Thomas’ left has an epitaph, but Thomas’ marker has been left blank. Alexander wonders if it’s to help preserve Thomas’ memory or erase it. Whether the family wants to remember Thomas spent the last years of his life drunk and suicidal or even remember him at all.

Alexander stands before it, judging how tall Thomas was and standing just short of that. It’s disrespectful to stand on the dead, after all. He stares at Thomas’ name, silent for a moment. White tulips are just starting to blossom at the base of the monument.

“Hey Thomas,” Alexander starts. “How, um, how are you doing?” His voice stays steady, quiet, like he’s in a library or something. “That’s kind of a stupid question, I guess. Sorry for asking. I mean, I hope you’re well! Hard to imagine you would be anything but well, but uh, I don’t know how the afterlife works. Is it too much to ask for you to drop me a line and let me know what’s on the other side? No one else that’s dead has done it yet, and I’d appreciate it.”

Alexander lets out a slight chuckle, like Thomas is here to laugh with him. The only sound is his own voice and a few birds. He sighs.

“Sorry ‘bout missing the funeral. Didn’t want to go after what happened at the showing. Cody and P.J. did though! They said it was beautiful.” Alexander bites at the inside of his cheek, hesitating. As far as he knows he’s talking to thin air but that thin air might be Thomas so he keeps going.

“So, I don’t know if you remember, but right before you, uh, did the thing… uh, killed yourself I mean, we were talking on the phone and you asked me ‘What are you going to do?’ And I… I think about that a lot, actually. Well, I think about _you_ a lot. But, after you died, I really didn’t know what I was going to do. It didn’t feel like there was anything _to_ do. How could I go back to a normal life after everything that happened?”

He coughs. “...you’re not really able to answer that, are you? I guess I can answer it myself, Thomas. Thanks for the conversation,” he drawls. He’s stalling, he knows it, but he keeps talking anyway. “It was… surprisingly easy? Like, I went back to New York after the funeral and just went back to work. Just like that. Before Washington or Burr or James even made it back to New York. James actually stayed with your family for a week, did you know that?

“Well, I got back expecting all sorts of questions and things but nobody really talks about you? I know, I know, Thomas, you would hate that. I’m just the bearer of bad news here, don’t shoot the messenger and all that. To be fair, though, you were gone for five years before you died. Oh, they did put a picture of you in the break room! One of the really good ones. And a candle and some instructions so people could send their condolences without actually leaving New York. It was there my first day back. I’ll admit, I don’t know if it’s still there. Haven’t been back in the break room since I saw it to check.

“Been working hard.” Alexander nods to himself. “The justice system doesn’t stop for anyone. Been working quite a bit with Burr recently, actually. Boss keeps pairing us up. At first he kept treating me like I was ready to snap at a moment’s notice, but I think Burr’s finally back to hating me. I swear that man will be the death of me though. Always wants plea deals, that one. Never likes to go to jury.”

Alexander sighs. “What else…” he looks up, thinking. “Eliza shows up at my apartment daily. You remember Eliza, right? The middle Schuyler sister? My landlady? Yeah, you remember. I think she’s into me? Which is odd, because I told her about everything that happened but she sticks around. I’m not… I don’t think I’m ready for anything yet. I’m still kinda in love with someone else, you know?

“Cody and I don’t really talk anymore. I mean, he comes around a lot still, but we’re not close like we used to be. I think he’s… waiting for something. What, I don’t know. Maybe I’m supposed to do something, or he is, or someone else is but I have no clue. He just stays distant. I can’t blame him. He says he doesn’t blame me for what happened, but I still do, so…” He trails off. Rambling in front of Thomas’ grave hadn’t been the plan, but it was too late now. He’d already done it.

“But I didn’t come here to tell you all that. I wanted… I wanted to…” Alexander lets out another sigh, rubs his face in his hands, and looks back at Thomas’ headstone. “I wanted to apologize again. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for… everything. I can apologize a thousand times and I’ll never be able to express just how damn sorry I am.”

Alexander stops talking. His throat is starting to close up again and he doesn’t want to cry again. He’s cried too much in six months. He stands there, fighting back tears, feeling the wind pull gently at his hair and clothes. One of the tulips by Thomas’ headstone bends in the wind, the blossom towards Alexander, as if Thomas is offering it to him. Alexander takes a hesitant step forward, then another, and soon he’s standing in front of the carved rock. He kneels, taking the tulip in one hand. He feels the stem, smooth and young under his fingertips. Before he can stop himself, Alexander tugs on it until it comes free.

Alexander holds the flower in his hand, one last gift from Thomas. He stares at it, pure white against the caramel of his skin. Alexander realizes he’s smiling at it.

“Always one for drama, aren’t you?” He asks Thomas. “Gotta bend a single flower in my direction. Don’t worry, I’ll take it home with me. Press it in a book or something.” Alexander’s fist closes around the stem, and he holds it while his other hand comes up to rest against the top of Thomas’ headstone.

“I can’t wait to see you again,” Alexander mutters. “One day, I will. I promise. I’ll apologize to your face. And then, if you want, I’ll leave you alone forever. But… if you don’t, and you’ll let me, I’ll hold your hand and kiss you for as long as you want.” Alexander smiles sadly down at the carving of Thomas’ name.

“I’ll stay if you will.”

**Author's Note:**

> The series is over for good this time I swear. Someone DM me and get my address to come murder me now, thanks.
> 
> Purple Hyacinths are flower speak for "Forgive me."
> 
> White Tulips are "Forgiveness."
> 
> Scream at me @theinevitablesense on tumblr.
> 
> Thank you all.


End file.
